


The Histories

by CooperNox (CooperMox)



Series: Ground and Sky [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Background stories, Explicit Language, Gen, Homeless 100 AU, Oneshot collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CooperMox/pseuds/CooperNox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back stories for 'Don't be Afraid to Fall'</p><p>Or</p><p>How did Clarke and Lexa get to where they are today?<br/>(And select other characters too)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Grounder

"I'm coming, I'm coming, what's the rush?! Did we decide on our next trip? Please say its the Everglades, please please please!" Clarke rushed down the stairs, having only heard her parents calling in the break of the music in her headphones. She expected the usual scene, her parents hunched over their map, marking the route for their next road trip, checking off points where they would meet the others in their group along the way. The scene in the living room was not that. Abby and Jake weren't alone. The room was full of local police and federal agents. Abby was cuffed, struggling in the grip of two agents.  
"Mom?!" Clarke stopped short at the foot of the stairs. "What's going on? Dad? What's happening?"

"Clarke, this is a misunderstanding, we-" Abby was cut off with a hard pull on her cuffs.  
"I'm sorry miss, but we have evidence that your mother is involved in a coordinated domestic terrorist cell." The agent in charge, a tall greasy middle aged man, came to stand in front of her, blocking her view as her mother was pushed out the front door.   
"Terrorists?! My mom and dad are protestors, there's nothing illegal about that! Peaceful, nonviolent protestors!" Clarke balled her fists, tears filling her eyes. She beat her fists against the greasy man's chest until he grabbed her wrists, forcing her to sit on the steps.  
"Get your hands off of my daughter!" Jake raged, throwing off the officer restraining him in the corner of the room. The greasy man released Clarke's wrists and turned to her father.   
"Mister Griffin. You don't want your daughter to go into foster care do you? No? Then I suggest that you calm down before we have to arrest you alongside your wife." Jake stopped short and Clarke wiggled around the agent to run to him. 

"Sir, the house is clean." An officer announced, coming down the stairs. Clarke hadn't even noticed him go up past her.   
"Alright, let's get Mrs. Griffin down to booking. Mr. Griffin, you'll be informed of your wife's trial date, you should call your lawyer."

-

"Keep playing sweetheart, I'll get it." Jake stood, squeezing Clarke's shoulder before heading to answer the door. Clarke shrugged, placing her fingers over the guitar's strings the way he'd shown her until he turned his back. Once he was safely out of the study, she swung the guitar onto her back and followed him, stopping at the end of the hallway to peek around the corner without being seen. Two years of police and reporters ringing the bell for a story or more information had made her very wary of her father answering the door without backup.   
"Mister Griffin, could you come with us please?"  
"What is this? You already arrested my wife, I've done nothing wrong!"  
"Don't play innocent. Your wife ratted you out, Jake. Led us right to your cabin. Right to the bomb plans and blueprints of the refinery. With your name on them."   
"No! Abby wouldn't! We have a fifteen year old daughter! What's going to happen to her?!"  
"Should have thought of that before becoming a terrorist mister Griffin."   
"Jacob Griffin, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit terrorist acts against the United States of America and perjury on the stand in the trials of The State vs. Abby Griffin and The United States vs. The Earth Liberation Front."

-

"Clarke, we can't keep re-homing you like this. I know it's an adjustment, but-"  
"An adjustment?!" Clarke stood, slapping her file out of Miss Keaton's hands.  
"My parents are terrorists! They're in prison. Adjustment is selling it a bit short don't you think?!My whole life, every trip we took, I thought we were doing something good, protesting big companies that were destroying the earth! But they were blowing up refineries and blackmailing CEOs. They were lying to me, bringing me up to be just like them. You think I give a damn about where I go now? Just put me somewhere where they'll stay out of my way, I can take care of myself."   
"I don't doubt that Clarke, but if you're so mad at your parents, why are you behaving just like them?" Keaton gathered her papers calmly, used to Clarke's rages after being her case worker for a year.   
"Excuse me?"  
"You heard me Clarke. You've been expelled from three schools in a year, broke your previous case worker's nose and been arrested twice since your parents were incarcerated. You're angry, I get that. But if you're angry at them for grooming you to be a criminal, why are you acting like one. They're not here to force you to break the law or hurt anyone. You're walking that road on your own."

"Maybe it's genetic. I'll be at Saint Kay's when you find some new hell for me to live in. Take your time." Clarke grabbed her suitcase and guitar and slammed the office door, fuming as she stalked out of the courthouse and flagged a cab to the local shelter. 

-

"Birthday girl."  
"Bellamy."   
"What is with the ice, sister?" Bellamy shoved lightly at her shoulder, receiving a scowl and a mimed gag.  
"You know, it's really creepy when you call me that. We lived in the same home for six months before you aged out. After we slept together."   
"Not my fault you had to be re-homed again and ended up living under my roof. How many felony charges have you collected since we met?"   
"Don't be a dick. It's only one felony, and it's cleared as of today, the rest were just minor arrests. And it was six." Clarke kicked his shin. He was a dick, but he was family, or at least a friend. Two of her arrests had been with him sitting next to her, so he really had no room to talk.  
"I guess it's too late to make it lucky number seven huh? Or do you have one last hurrah planned for your birthday?" Bellamy looked conspiratorially around the kitchen, trying to be as shifty as possible. Clarke could only laugh at him. 

"You know I didn't ask you to pick me up to go on a crime spree Bell. I have a prison visit today. Time to finally spit in my mom's eye now that her assets have been transferred to me. As little as that is." The bitterness in her voice clashed with the blue fire in her eyes. She remembered the day when she'd received the news that her father had killed himself in prison, the day she'd sworn to make her mother pay for turning him in and completely ruining her life. It would be a small victory, but she would enjoy the look on Abby Griffin's face for the rest of her life.   
"Ah, yes, the day of inheritance. Must be nice to have grown up in a house with money and all that."  
"Don't start Bell. Are you going to drive or what?"  
"Yeah yeah, what are brothers for?"  
"Eww." Another gag.  
"Last time, I promise. It's just fun to watch you squirm."  
"Skeeze." Clarke rolled her eyes. 

"What are you going to do with the money?" He asked, leading her to his car. It was nothing fancy, or particularly reliable, but he'd worked his ass off to pay for it and he was proud of that at least.  
"I don't know. Probably blow it on something stupid just to piss her off. New guitar maybe? Fancy leather coat? Maybe I'll just go to the strip club and get a private room for the night."  
"Dream big huh? You know there's maybe one male strip club in town right?"  
"Who says I want male strippers?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him and he had to swerve back into the correct lane as he shook himself out of shock.   
"You are talking my language Griffin. We're making a party out of this. I'll round up the rest of the crew, get us a video camera, maybe find a guy with some party supplies."  
"You sure know how to spoil a girl. I assume I'm paying for the drugs and the camera, as well as the strippers?"  
"You're the money bags, and wouldn't that just be the best kick in the teeth for mommy dearest?"

"You make a strong argument Blake. You make some calls, and find someplace classy. I'm adding 'nice dress' to the list, and I'm not wasting it on some low rent place that will require me to burn it after to get rid of the crabs."   
"Your wish is my command Princess."   
"Why am I friends with you?" Clarke laughed, punching him in the shoulder.   
"I don't know. Is it the car? Or maybe you're secretly hoping that our one night of drunken sex will get an encore performance." He raised one eyebrow suggestively, earning another punch.  
"I say again, why am I friends with you? And that's your sick fantasy, not mine."   
"A guy can dream!"   
"As long as he keeps it to himself and gets me where I'm going without forcing me to throw up in his rust bucket of a car."   
"Respect the car Griffin. It's taking you to prison, it might leave you there."   
"I'll behave if your car does. But you can't leave me or you're never going to get a private room in a fancy strip club."   
"Alright, truce. Let's go spit on your mom."

-

Quiet was rare, it wasn't unwelcome, but it was so unusual now that Griffin had to fill the silence somehow. Her tent was normally occupied with at least one of the younger kids, but Bellamy had taken the whole crew to the soup kitchen, so she could have a few hours of peace.   
"What's it gonna be Griffin? Fall in line with the big dogs? Or keep going it alone and lose my crew one by one?" She asked herself, scribbling down a set of chords in the margin of a newspaper.   
"When the hell did being homeless get political?" 

She strummed a few bars, scratching out a new order when she didn't like a transition. This and the muttering continued for a few minutes until there was a rustle of tarp.   
"Hello?"  
"Back here." She called. The Street's messenger had arrived.   
"Sounds good." The other girl said as she passed through a few more sheets of tarp and plastic to find the space that Griffin called her office.   
"Thanks."  
"I'm Raven."  
"Griffin. Nice to meet you."  
"Same."  
"So what's the pitch? I can't say I'm sold on losing my crew." She put the guitar away and pulled out a bag of chips she'd been saving for this discussion. Food usually made talks like this go smoother, or at least gave her something else to focus on.

"No pitch- thanks," Raven took a chip from the offered bag. "It's just, you know this city is getting worse for people like us, especially if there's little ones to look out for. It's just smarter to have more people watching each other's backs."  
"And the stories about your lot taking other crew's turf by force?"  
"Highly exaggerated. The Commander was tough, pretty cold, but she's not like that. She won some crews by winning a fight or two, sure, but never without a good reason, or being challenged first. She's gone though. Her kid sister is in charge now. You're in no danger if you say no. The offer is for your own protection from everyone else, not us." Griffin could see why Raven was sent to talk to her. She was honest, blunt and to the point.   
"And how does that work?"   
"You keep your own turf, keep going as you are really, but if there's trouble, you've got nearly forty other people watching your six. Send a runner and boom, instant cavalry. And you do the same for us if it's the other way around of course."  
"Not for free though." She knew there was a catch.  
"Profits get pooled, yeah. But everything is shared evenly, cross my heart. And anything you earn for yourself is obviously yours, we don't steal from our own. It's just like any other small crew, just a larger scale." 

"And everyone answers to this kid?"   
"She's smart. And she's got Lincoln as a second, they manage pretty well." Raven shrugged, eating another chip. Griffin sighed. The older groups and the street gangs were getting worse, moving down from New York and Jersey, she'd lost a few kids to the gangs just this month. They'd thought they'd have a better chance with a tougher crowd. It wouldn't be long before more followed.  
"I'll talk to my people and come find you. I can't really say no can I?"  
"You can. But it's not the best option."


	2. The Street

She woke to the sounds of her new foster sister tossing and turning on her plastic covered mattress.   
"Kid." the shuffling continued and the girl was crying quietly.   
"Kid!" She said, more forcefully, sitting up to poke the wriggling mass under the thin blanket. the girl stopped. A tangled mess of black hair appeared from under the blanket and a tiny fierce face glared at her through tear tracks and puffy eyes.  
"You're going to wake up the whole room, Kid."   
"Don't call me that! I'm not a kid!"  
"Really? 'cuz you're crying like a kid. You gotta grow up before anyone will believe you when you say that." 

The younger girl's defiance broke and she twisted her hands in the blanket.  
"What's your name, ki-. " She stopped herself. "What do you want to be called?"  
"I'm Octavia. Brother says he named me after Caesar's sister. He read it in a book when we lived in the library. Brother always took care of me, but they wouldn't let him stay here."   
"I'm Alexandria. That was a place that Caesar conquered, there was a huge library there. Everyone calls me Alex." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and faced Octavia, cocooned in her blanket  
"Alex is a boys name! " the girl said loudly and Alex shushed her with a finger to her lips.  
"Well, not always..."  
"Use the other A."  
"What?"  
"A-L-E-X-A. Use the A at the end, not the beginning. Lexa." Octavia spelled it out proudly, she'd been put into a school and the other six year olds couldn't spell like she could. Not big words, at least, and not without sounding it out.   
"Lexa." Alex tried the name. "I like it. I'll be Lexa then."   
"Cool." Octavia beamed proudly. 

"Hey Lexa?"   
"Yeah?"  
"Is your bed plastic too?"  
"No. Ron makes all the new kids sleep on plastic mattresses until he knows that you don't wet the bed."   
"I don't wet the bed! It's crinkly and really hard. When do I get a new one?"   
"It really depends on if he remembers. This month's check is going to be bigger because you're here, so he's probably going to blow it on booze, so it might be a while." Lexa frowned, feeling sorry for the kid. They all had a pretty short stick, but as far as the system went, Octavia had barely gotten a stick at all. This wasn't the best foster home but it was a pretty permanent one, as far as foster homes went. Ron and Sherry weren’t bad people, despite the drinking habit and compulsive adultery, so there was never any trouble with social workers or CPS, but they didn't deserve the title of 'parents' even with 'foster' in front. Octavia would probably be here for years, if not all the way until she aged out of the system. 

"You can share mine if you'd like, I don't mind. I've been stealing stuffing from Sherry's sewing room and putting it in my mattress so its really soft. It's not like she's ever home to miss it." Octavia grinned and nodded enthusiastically, crawling off the kid bed and into Lexa's.   
"How old are you Lexa?" Octavia mumbled as she snuggled into her side.  
"Twelve."   
"Same age as Bell! You should be his girlfriend."   
Lexa wanted to laugh, but her two other foster sisters were still, amazingly, fast asleep.   
"I don't think so kid." Boys were the last thing on her mind. Keeping off her foster parents radar, living through junior high, making sure Gus didn't abandon her when he turned eighteen next month, those things took precedence. Boys were gross. 

-

"She didn't take it Ron, you know she didn't!" Lexa stomped her foot, glaring daggers at her foster father. Octavia shrank behind her, even though at eight she was almost as tall as her sister.   
"So who did it Alex? I bought four bottles and now there's three, don't you dare tell me no one took it Alex, don't you dare." Ron swung an arm wide, gesturing at the three bottles of bourbon on the counter.  
"My name is Lexa! And what the fuck would any of us do with your booze? I'm the oldest and I'm fourteen, and I have better things to do than drink myself stupid! Maybe the cashier forgot to put the bottle in the bag. You always blame Octavia, what has she ever done?!" Lexa stepped to put herself between Ron and the door, pushing Octavia behind her. The man had never liked Octavia, she had always been defiant and resentful of him and Sherry for taking her away from her brother. It had been a tense two years.   
"And you always take the fall for her. Alex." Ron spat the name, egging her on. She'd been a good kid, quiet, always followed Gus around like a puppy. But Gus aged out, and she'd become a problem, started picking fights, and he'd caught her with a girl a month ago. He wouldn't tolerate homos under his roof. Ron knew exactly where his fourth bottle was, but he needed Alex out of the house, he needed a reason to tell CPS to find her new placement, and he knew she would pick a fight for Octavia, her little shadow.   
"I knew it." Lexa curled her lip in disgust and turned on her heel, slamming the front door with a loud "fuck you!" Octavia scurried after her, chest puffed out under Ron's scowl, defiant.

"He's getting me kicked out O." Lexa said when the girl joined her on the front steps.   
"I'll go with you." Octavia chirped happily, sure that as long as she was with Lexa she would be fine. Maybe they could go live with Bellamy.  
"The system doesn't work like that Octavia. He'll say that I don't fit in the house, they'll take me to a shelter until they can find a new placement. I'll probably have to change schools, and I know Ron will never let me see you or the others again. He'll rip our family apart with a phone call."   
Octavia’s brow furrowed. Lexa was her hero, after Bellamy of course, but she hadn’t seen him for more than a few days in two years and Lexa took care of her, and their four other siblings.   
“Ya know, moving and all that shit, fuck it. I don’t care. What kills me is that I won’t be able to look after you guys anymore. He’s getting worse.”  
“What if we all go?”  
“If six kids go missing from one house, the cops will have us back before dinner. Besides, living on the streets is no way to grow up O.”  
“Is this better?! They took my mom, they took Bellamy, they can’t have you too! We’re family, I go where you go.” Her mind was made up and she crossed her arms over her chest.  
“Octavia,”  
“ALEX!” Ron slammed the door, storming out onto the porch.  
“Show some respect! I’m in charge here, you answer to me, you never speak to me like that again!”  
“You show some fucking respect Asshole! I told you, my name is Lexa.” She jumped to her feet and pulled Octavia down the steps, turning to face Ron, feeling small with him standing so far above her, but holding her ground.   
“Little bitch! Bet your parents would be so proud. You’re a criminal just like them! How’d that go for them again? Oh yeah, shot dead. Maybe I should call the cops instead of CPS, let them finish the job.”   
She knew what he was doing. Making sure the neighbors heard her trial, heard her lose her temper at him, saw her strike at him like she’d been known to do when he was drunk and trying to touch her or the other girls. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but she was fuming, fists balled, knuckles white. She held herself back as he tore into her family, gunned down by criminals, not for being criminals, but when he produced her backpack from behind him, grinning wickedly as he gloated about finding his missing liquor and some of his wife’s jewelry, her world went red. His words washed over her and were burned up in the veil of her rage. And suddenly she was standing over him, her knuckles and his nose bloody. He was wailing incoherently, trying to roll to his side so he didn't drown in the blood running back into his throat, but she held him firmly down with a foot on her chest. High school track had made her into steel and the fat man couldn’t throw her off. As her vision cleared she stepped back. Ron rolled, spitting blood at her with a snarl. Her foot connected with his chest, and she ran.

-

“Miss, the theater is closed for choir auditions.” The woman was a teacher from her middle school, but she knew she wouldn’t recognize her. Even without the split lip and swollen eye.   
“I’m just studying ma’am. I won’t be in the way, I promise.” Lexa looked up, putting on as much extra pitiful as she could. the teacher wanted to protest, but Lexa stopped her.  
“Please, Ma’am. I- I can’t go home.” She touched her bruised eye gently, making a show of wincing and the woman nodded, turning away quickly before she cried.  
 _’Suckers. All of ‘em.’_ She was either too good at this, or people were all suckers, and she didn’t believe she was that good.   
She really was there to study, the community theater was the perfect place. There was usually enough activity going on that she didn’t get bored being buried in books for hours. The bruises and scrapes were the lie. Some Jack had decided to try and claim one of her blocks for himself, a prime spot, covered sidewalks and generous business owners. She had to show him how she’d earned her name. His people would likely leave him, growing her group to thirty or more, and they would look to her. Two years had left their mark. At 16, she had more scars than most grown men, and more stories to go with them than Homer could write in a lifetime. 

She was finished with her math homework before the auditions started, and halfway through her short essay before someone worth watching took the stage. Lexa closed her notebook as soon as the girl started singing. She was by far the best of the day, though Lexa could see that she was shy. No, sad. Her voice was sad too, but beautiful, haunting.   
“Commander!” The auditorium doors were flung open and a tall, gawky boy burst in, eyes immediately training on the spot he’d left his leader.  
The girl stopped singing, blue eyes following the path of the intruder’s up to Lexa in the back of the theater.   
“Miss. I think you should go now.” the teacher said through gritted teeth “You too young man. these are closed auditions.”   
“I’m sorry, Lincoln can’t read.” Lexa said, deadpan at full strength  
“I can too liar!”  
“Now please!” The teacher cut them off before they could argue further and Lexa collected her bag.  
“I’m sorry. Keep going. We were never here.” She directed this to the girl on stage, locking eyes with her for a moment, almost tripping on her feet as she was caught in her glare. The sadness was still there, she noticed, under the shock and bridled rage of the stare that was trained on her, and Lexa felt a powerful need to know why.  
“Commander! It’s Cos, come on!”  
“I’m coming Lincoln, I’m trying to clean up your mess. Again.” And they were outside in the evening light.  
“What trouble has she gotten herself into now?”  
“Turned the wrong trick. They pulled her in, Lexa.” Lexa stopped walking, dropping to the sidewalk to sit before she fell.  
“And her girls?”  
“All ten. She’s still seventeen, they could go easy on her.” Lincoln tried.  
“For prostitution maybe, not for pimping. Those girls will turn her over in a second. There goes half of our income.”  
“Lexa!” Lincoln looked horrified, sitting beside her on the curb.  
“Don’t Abe. I can’t think about it any other way. She’s going away for a long time, I’ll never see her again and I still have mouths to feed.” She snapped. She couldn’t focus on the fact that she’d lost her girlfriend, that it could have been her caught in that sting if she’d been there to guard as she often did, that one of them might mention her to the police. _’They’ll flip on her, but they’re scared of me. If only they were scared of her when I wasn’t by her side._  
“It doesn’t matter.” She said out loud.  
“That’s cold Commander.”  
“It’s not exactly a warm fluffy world we live in Lincoln. We carry on until we can get out.” 

\- 

“You understand why I’m doing this right?” She was twelve, but they were of an equal height now. Lexa knew Octavia would be ok. The Streets respected her just as much as herself or Lincoln, and the kid had been in just about as many scraps and street battles as her mentors.  
“Of course sis. I pushed you into this remember? You never wanted to be out here. Go kick the real world’s ass.”  
“Technically I committed assault and had to run for my life, but yeah, that was totally your idea.”   
“It’s a wonder I ever learned to speak anything other than sarcasm.”   
Lexa pulled her into a tight hug, she wasn’t ready to lose her sister too, but this time, she couldn’t take her along. Octavia had to finish school, had to find her brother, had to take Lexa’s place.  
“Don’t let Lincoln fall apart ok? He won’t talk to me, but I know he’s going to miss me.” Lexa smirked at Lincoln’s purposely turned back.   
“And make sure this new crew knows you’re in charge.” Lexa finished sternly.  
“Yeah right, you know Lincoln is in charge. Even if I give the orders, no one would listen if he's not standing next to me. I'll manage though."  
“You’ve grown up too fast. Stop that.” She pushed the girl back to arm’s length.   
“This is our life Lexa. Well, not yours anymore, college girl! Go, your cab is waiting.”  
"Take care of yourself Octavia."  
"I love you too Lexa. Go."


End file.
